


should've loved you with everything i had

by scourge8itch



Category: The Maze Runner (2014), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Angst, M/M, Post-Canon, The Death Cure Spoilers, this is sad i'm sorry i'm trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-09
Updated: 2014-12-09
Packaged: 2018-02-28 19:55:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2745071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scourge8itch/pseuds/scourge8itch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas is still learning to cope in Paradise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	should've loved you with everything i had

**Author's Note:**

> First fic in the fandom and it’s this trash I’m so sorry I just wanted to write something heartbreaking and newtmas.

i. (loss)

You wake up to the feeling of fingertips brushing against your own, but it’s gone in an instant and the reminder strikes you like it does every morning, harsh and brutal.

Gone. Dead.

The agony fills the spaces where he used to be.

* * *

ii. (guilt)

The same empty feelings resurface in your chest, and it’s simultaneously too much and never enough. There are a thousand apologies running through your mind every second, for him, for everyone else, for the part of you that misses him. But it’s never going to absolve you of what you did - nothing could ever match up. He’ll never be alive again, and if you’re plagued by dreams of the red splatter on the sand and the pleas falling from his lips it’s your fault.

You wish you could chase away the nightmares, but with the images of your blood-stained hands permanently burned onto the back of your eyelids, you remember it’s what you deserve.

* * *

 

iii. (rage)

You haven’t stopped being absolutely livid at yourself. His last setences play on repeat, over and over and over, and you’ve never hated anyone more than you hate yourself. Every word stung, they cut through you, and you reopen the wounds he made before they even got a chance to heal. It’s your fault and you know it, the self loathing like a mantra in your head. It’s hell.

The fury coursing through your veins consumes you.

* * *

 

iv. (pain)

Everytime you think of him it’s like you’re pushed a little further underwater. You’re gasping for air, struggling to stay afloat. Sometimes you think it’d be easier to drown.

* * *

 

v. (regret)

It’s too late for second guesses. You can’t undo what’s already happened - the letter, the daggers that sliced you apart when he screamed at you, the pull of the trigger. The deafening bang of the gunshot still rings in your ears and it’s all you can hear, sometimes, when there’s silence in the air and nothing else on your mind.

Sometimes it still strikes you out of the blue, _he's dead, my best friend's dead and i killed him_. It hurts, it never stops hurting and you're so close to shattering, a vase lined with cracks ready to crumble. It's all you can do not to cry.

You find yourself almost wishing that it was all just an illusion created by WICKED. It’d be better than the alternative - recognising that he’s dead.

* * *

 

vi. (recovery)

You don’t think you’ll ever forget the way he looked in his last moments or the glassy look in his eyes as he fell. It will always be a part of you, a haunting memory - and it's torture.

But you learn to think past it. You reach beyond the bloodstains, you remember him for who he was, all the way back in the Glade.

You remember his soft smile. The warm glow of his eyes. You remember the way he cared for everyone, his fierce loyalty, his role as the unspoken leader who brought the group together. And even more still, overwhelmingly, you remember the way he was the calm in your storm, how you would instantly relax around him, the way he made everything seem okay.

You loved him. You still do. It's still hard, it'll never stop being hard, but you find that day by passing day it gets easier to cope.

All scars heal over time. And one day, if you're lucky enough, maybe you'll find the peace that he did.


End file.
